


Incoming Message

by wishingwell44



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Space, Disney References, Kissing, M/M, Miscommunication, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Space Stations, Swearing, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Vomiting, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 10:15:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18009041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishingwell44/pseuds/wishingwell44
Summary: Communication is key.A story about a space Captain, his second-in-command, chicken noodle soup, and unresolved feelings.





	Incoming Message

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of the science stuff is made up as I am not an astrophysicist. I tried to make it as "real" as possible but I'm just going to boil the non-accuracy to that this fic takes place in the future. Preeety much all un-beta'd so mistakes are mine. 
> 
> The graphic depictions of violence is a precautionary about one scene in particular, during the latter part of the first half of the fic.
> 
> All rights belong to Marvel.

The beginning of everything always starts with...well, something. Scientists back in the 21st described that sort of _something_ as the _big bang_ , or the creation of the universe as we know it.

Eight months ago, Steve Rogers’ beginning started with him being re-promoted. A solo mission was entrusted to him with a shake of the hand, a fancy pin, and a fancy new name tag.  It was bestowed upon him in a small ceremony (read - him and his commanding officer) to go along with his uniform that completed the look of _I will make sure this ship doesn’t crash into any asteroids, but really - no promises._

Space - _the final frontier_ as those classic shows would say. His family managed to keep relics locked up and away in the national museum, and every so often he would get a call from the archivist asking if they could play a couple of those shows. He always said yes. It was the notion of happiness from other people that gave them joy. The pews inside were always filled, and seeing people acting as though a meteor had struck the hull caused a full earthquake within the whole cabin was laughable, but it provided the escapism that era was needed.

It wasn’t television for Steve, though. It was Steve’s reality. Starting up the ship, letting the lights and colors fill the darkened hull was _majestic,_ and every time he did it, it felt like he was coming back to life.

If his Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandpa could see him now.

When he tapped the interactive tablet after it was given to him, those eight months ago, he learned of what exactly he was supposed to do.

Retrieval.

Retrieval of a set of crystals that would help power the city for another hundred years each. The operations director of the city explained during Steve’s initial meetings, that when the city first initially switched over to crystal power, from something or other,  that the original exploration team only gathered a couple, as their technology was not up to par from what they have now.

Now, they have ships that can move faster than the speed of light, faster than anything the human race had seen before. Their original source, from at least what Steve was told and what he learned from his history textbooks, that everything originally ran on electricity, then sunlight power, but then that eventually was phased out long ago.  The energy system now ran on a mistake. The A.R.C. wasn’t supposed to work, but it did, and well - even the historians aren’t sure how he got the source. The source is a small crystal native to a planet now less than a year away. The first A.R.C. was bigger than three rooms combined, considering the one that is now buried in the foundation of the city, is as big as a drink coaster. As long as the A.R.C. has the crystal source, it doesn’t need to be bothered for a hundred years or so. They found the source of the crystal during one of the first space explorations, and over time, that planetary source was turned into an an entire tucked away mining facility on a far off planet, that according to the data processed by the tech team down below, it really shouldn't take much time to get there.

*

Steve had to make sure parameters were set when it came to time. All clocks, and devices that calculated time were set to Earth. He would wake up at his regularly scheduled time, and fall asleep with his city. He wanted to make sure that he wasn’t up while the tech team below was working their hardest. It had to be a operation where both teams worked together in harmony.

That how his previous missions were with his in-flight team. _The Howling Commandos_ as they called themselves with  Bucky Barnes - his second in command, and the best one he had even been paired up with -  all in one room seeing the vast universe with him. It was more of a more military like team, rather exploration, taking down certain enemies, and developing plans for diplomatic relations.

More than he wanted to, Steve tried to forget those missions. The people that were with him weren’t bad not at all. They all become brothers in arms, moving like a team on the battlefield, but by the end, him and Barnes were the only surviving members of the team.  An end of the era - a mission gone wrong that left his men dead, with only him and Barnes, and three arms remaining between the both of them.

 _It wasn’t your fault,_ Steve heard over and over again from his therapist, from Bucky, from himself, but he always spiraled, always had those intrusive thoughts that countered: _are you sure?_

*

At six a.m for the past eight months, Steve had been waking up, brewing a cup of coffee in the private Mess Hall, picking the perfect banana to rehydrate, and sitting down in his chair to see the stars in the distance.

By 8 a.m. he had reset course to his destination, booting up the ship, and letting the engine hum. At 12pm, a rehydrated pack of food, sometimes choosing a package with his eyes closed so he could have some spontaneity in the dreariness that is a solo space mission. 12:30 he was  back on course. 7pm dinner was in the mess hall again, by himself, and by 8pm, he was back in bed, re-reading any reports given by the tech team back on earth from hours before.

*

The tech team down below didn’t have any outside contact to Steve other than through data filings, and delayed video contact, so they stuck to contacting through reports. This was very run of the mill for these types of missions, as he was told.

There was one thing that Steve never wrote down on his report, during those first eight months he had been traveling above. Every morning, right after he ate his breakfast and sipped his morning coffee as the space debris floated on by,  a small little red email sign would pop up on his computer console with the words in big black lettering:

**INCOMING MESSAGE FROM James B. Barnes**

Because every night before Bucky would go to bed, he would send one message just to say good morning to Steve.

For approximately 243 days, Steve waited for that red notification to ping on his console every morning and every morning he would press the icon and open a video message from his best friend.

Every message began with something along the lines of: _“Hey Steve, uh good morning. It’s a Thursday, Earth time,” Bucky’s eyes would always squint off screen “Earth time, twelve-thirty on the dot this morning.”_

Bucky was generally positioned leaning over his kitchen counter looking right down the barrel of the camera, or leaning against the wall. He always say something along the lines of “ _The insomnia has caught up yet again,”_ like it was something that happened once in a while, rather than every day.

His heart ached, and ached and he truly tried to ignore it, but he knew, every time he waited for that incoming morning video, there was something more to what he felt, than what Steve defined as friendship.

* * *

 

Bucky Barnes for the past eight months woke up around the same time each night in his home. He didn’t set an alarm, he didn’t think that someone was playing a movie a full volume in their home-pod each night starting in the dead of night - he just woke up.

Maybe it was the nightmares, maybe it was his neighborhood.

He hoped it was his neighborhood.

The beginning of everything always begins with...something. Like the _big bang..._ or a long running television show on a long dead network. Bucky sometimes confused his ancient media studies with his ancient science studies when he took them simultaneously during his college years.

For Bucky Barnes’ beginning it started in fleet school when he roomed with Steve Rogers. They knew each other as kids, but drifted apart until the day Bucky opened the room’s door seeing  some guy fixing his bed with a dorky smile on his face. Their friendship sparked again, and during their training they practically were attached at the hip.

Bucky wasn’t sure if the commander saw something or what, but on their last day, and their first posting arrived they both saw that they would be on the same training crew for missions.

A Millennia ago, Bucky learned in his ancient history class ( _not the official title)_ that some killing of a band ( _Sue him - he couldn’t remember. He didn’t like that class anyway)_ was heard around the world, but he thought, as Steve gave Bucky a hug in happiness, and Bucky felt those large warm hands hold his body tight, he was sure that the shot around the world was his realization of his best friend being more than just something else...but that’s who Steve was. His best friend.

*

On board training was a _dream_. Constantly seeing what space could offer, and the vast exploration that was ahead of him. Everytime he heard the captain switch on the announcement system to brace for hyperspeed, Bucky would try and find the closest seat at the window, as he wanted to see the ship power up, and the stars stretch out, before shooting off into space.

Steve and Bucky were walking on the deck in the main hub, one day halfway through their training, and the captain furiously talked into the announcement system that they were being stalked for who knows _how long_ and immediately had to shift gears. Seats went down, belts were fastened, and Bucky just kept watching out the window, seeing the stars stretch out and the ship kick into hyperspeed. Steve was there with him watching outside turn into a tunnel, but something in the back of Bucky’s mind told him that Steve wasn’t watching the window, but watching him.

Watching Bucky’s mouth turn into a small smile when life seemed to be inconsequential.

Their training completed a a couple years later, making sure those who stayed got the most of what they would possibly encounter and made sure to feel as though they were most comfortable on each aspect of the ship. A small exam and off they went back to Earth.

As soon as they touched ground, Bucky saw his family and hugged each one of them all, giddy for the physical contact, and the incoming postings as to which ship they would be placed. Off in the distance, he would see Steve walk around searching for _someone_ , and gripping his hat tighter than usual. Bucky let go from his mother just enough to look over the crowd to see Steve’s head bowed and being escorted off the tarmac.

From that day forward, Steve’s warm smile became cold and his eyes became distant.

Bucky was never told what happened on that day, but Steve spent less time at the desk sending emails to his family, as he used to do so twice a week during school and training.

*

Their postings for their new positions put Bucky and Steve on a new ship - being placed into the new reserved team.

Two years of being on deck, Steve was promoted first, being the Captain’s second in command after his previous got killed in action. When the Captain suffered the same fate, Steve was rightfully offered the role as Captain, and was allowed to choose who he wanted right beside him.

He came to Bucky’s quarters late one night with a recently opened bottle of whiskey and two empty glasses, with a soft knock on his door.

“Can we talk?” Steve said, with a slight smile, as the door slid open.

“I don’t know, Captain, can we?” Bucky smirked, and Steve rolled his eyes, and walked into his quarters, sitting right down on the couch, and setting the whiskey and two glasses on the table. Bucky followed suit and sat down across from Steve, taking the lightly filled glass as he sat back in his chair. Bucky swirled the brown liquid in the short glass. “So, what’s the occasion?” Bucky asked lightly. “Finally bit the bullet and asked Peggy to marry you?”

Steve looked into his drink and laughed. “Like I’d be the one asking for her hand. If anything I’d be telling you that Peggy asked me.”

“That’s true,” Bucky chuckled.

“I want you to be my second-in-command,” Steve said flatly.

Bucky almost spat out his drink. “I’m sorry,” he wiped his mouth. “Your what now?”

“You heard me,” Steve leaned back in his chair. “You and both know you deserve to be here - in this position. In my place.”

“Steve, that’s not-”

Steve put his arm out to stop Bucky from talking. “I’m not accepting any answer other than yes. It’s no argument I’ve already filled out the paperwork, and I’m honestly just here get your consent to shove it along up the ladder,” Steve sipped his drink and let the whiskey burn his throat with a grimace.  “If something was to happen,” Steve started to say before Bucky tried to cut him off to argue, but Steve continued. “ _If something was to happen_ , I want you to take my spot as Captain.”

Bucky placed his glass on the table, and took a deep breath. “Are you sure?”

“Bucky, I’ve never been so sure of something in my life.”

Bucky leaned his forearms on his knees and ran his hand through his hair, and started to nod. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah,” Bucky’s eyes smiled back.

*

As time marched forward, their immediate crew grew larger. By the peak of their crew  they had an alien language interpreter, brute force, and strategists, all collectively known as _The Howling Commandos -_ even though no howling was done and most of the ‘commando’ they ever got close to was Jim losing a bet. Days turned into weeks, which turned into months, which turned into years, and all of them got better as experience was gained.

One mission, however, changed things for the worse. A simple diplomatic visit to a neighboring planet, two hyperspeed clicks away. Galactic border had been recently overthrown by non-peaceful creatures mere days before. There was no way to know, and Bucky had to keep telling Steve those days going forward. He had to keep telling Steve that there was only one possible conclusion that could have happened, no matter the strategy. That the creatures that they fought could not physically stop, until they had reached enough of a threshold to continue. They were evolved, whether by force or not, for war. They evolved to win.

There was no viable option.

With a snap of a finger, the rest of the ship’s crew that survived, Steve, and himself were dissolved of all active duty missions. It took Bucky almost six months to recover from losing an arm, but by the time he was ready to live his life, the opportunity of a new one was given to him.

Bucky had decisions to make as to where to place himself back into this world. He chose the ground tech team. From first had experience, he knew how the ship traveled, knew how it ran. In his college days he was always succeeding in math, and found out as he was applying to become a technical assistant for Ground Control, that if he wasn’t chosen for main training, he would have been sitting in his own personal chair.

He was hesitant at first in taking the job. The arm was still healing from surgery, even with the proper care, and he wasn’t going to be able to perform as good as the other scientists on the floor.

Chief Officer Fury raised an eyebrow, when Bucky expressed his concern. “We have a room filled with all sorts of people that can help you, James.”

Bucky internally winced at his name. It sounded so foreign, so _unused._ “I’m still recovering.”

“We can help you recover faster. We can get you an arm that is state of the art,” Fury leaned forward in his chair, and sighed. “I know you miss it up there. I would too if you saw what that could offer, and immediately get that ripped away from you, but looking here,” he grabbed the file folder. “You have so much potential, James.”

Bucky pursed his lips together, and took a deep breath through his nose. “How long do I have to make a decision?”

“A week.”

“Understood.”

*

A week passed by and he still woke up in the middle of the night covered in sweat. He padded into his kitchen, and noticed his personal tablet was blinking with a tiny email notification. Bucky swiped a finger on his screen to open the tablet up.

**INCOMING MESSAGE FROM: Steven G. Rogers**

Bucky exited out from the email and checked his chat icon. Steve had a little green dot in the lower right hand corner. He could just video chat him as there was no reason to take time to email.

Well.

It had been a long time since they last spoke.

Bucky opened up his email icon and pressed the red notification.

A paused video of the man he served his time up in the crew of his last ship was practically in his hands. He looked tired, and not an every day tired.

It was the sort of tired that stayed in your bones. Bucky knew the way it presented physically because, Steve wasn’t the only one that felt that way.

Bucky pressed play.

“ _Hey, Bu-,”_ Steve took a deep breath and looked down, presumably at his hands that were off screen. “ _Hey James. It’s uh. It’s been a long time.”_ Bucky saw in the background of Steve’s home, the little green clock that ticked away. 10:35pm. Two hours ago. “ _This has been on my mind a lot, and I know what they said to me, I could probably assume as to what they said to you about the mission. I know they said it wasn’t my fault,”_ Steve took a long shuddering breath. “ _But I can’t stop thinking it was all because of  my actions. The guilt I have for what we have lost, what_ you _have lost, is just so,”_ Steve leaned his head back exposing his neck. “ _I’m sorry. I know my therapist told me not to apologize, but I need to. I’m so sorry. I ruined your chances for more time up there.”_

The video ended, and Bucky placed his hand over his eyes, letting only a few tears fall.

He missed that voice all too much.

Bucky waited a few more minutes, and opened up his email, and pressed the small video icon.

A red dot emanated from this tablet.

“Hello Steve, it’s uh _,”_ Bucky looked off screen to look at the clock. “It’s twelve-forty-five. In the morning. It’s nice to hear from you, and your therapist is right. You don’t have to apologize. Unless you were using a genetic modification device to pose as those ugly ass bastards, then you have to send me a formal letter,” Bucky laughed. “But, apology accepted, even if it’s something that doesn’t need an apology in the first place. If it’s something that will make you sleep at night, so be it. I’m doing well, I’ll have you know. I’m in the process of being still placed within the team. Technical assistance with ground control. Oh, and I’m in the process of getting a new arm. Latest tech, and the biomechanics are working on it as we...we speak,” Bucky gave a light smile. “It was nice to hear from you. Be well.”

Bucky tapped the recording button again to stop, and it took him a few minutes of deciding whether or not to respond.

He pressed the send button and heard the familiar _woosh_ of the mail being digitized and delivered.

*

It had been months since he last sent out his message to Steve. His arm finally being felt as though it was a part of him, and not at the same time, but no one pressed on about it, and for that he was thankful. At ground control, he was welcomed. Helping out with sporadic missions, and using his own experience as a way to help put his own thoughts in order.

One day he walked into the base and was immediately escorted back up to see the Chief Officer. Bucky barely sat down before he heard the words “ _Rogers is going back up.”_

“Good morning to you too,” Bucky deadpanned. “That’s great. I’m glad he’s getting another go at it, but I fail to see why you need to tell me this information. Sir,” Bucky cleared his throat. His eye patch always invoked a smidge of fear.

“I want you to be on the main technical team. Romanoff and Wilson will be your main core with you.”

“....and how does this relate to Captain Rogers?”

“He’s going on a mission. The battery source we have to run this place is slowly losing it’s juice. We need replacements.”

“That isn’t a mission, you’re turning him into _a glorified mail carrier,”_ Bucky tensed, but tried to keep his calm. “Isn’t the mining colony like light years away?”

“You’re exaggerating, but it’s far.”

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. “That mission is a one way _ticket and you know that_ ,” Bucky’s voice started to rise. “Why would you offer that to _St-_ to Captain Rogers? _You know that he would take it._ ”

“He volunteered.”

 _You stupid impulsive idiot,_ Bucky thought.

“Yes, we said that to him too. To his face,” Fury responded, catching Bucky off guard and not realizing that he spoke aloud. “Not as eloquent as you put it, though,” he leaned forward. “The last thing we need is someone that Rogers’ doesn’t trust helping out behind the scenes. He gave me your name personally.”

Bucky’s breath hitched softly, as he sat there quietly for a few moments, thinking things over.

...and over.

...and over again.

“Okay,” Bucky nodded. “Where do I sign up?

Fury cocked an eyebrow and tapped a button on his desk. “Sign up - the hell are you talking about. Go sit in your chair as normal, I’ve already programmed everything to your screen. Steve leaves tomorrow. Get here at five-thirty.”

That night, when he accepted the job, he couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned thanks to his anger due to Steve’s annoying complex. He couldn’t close his eyes, he just had to -

Bucky found himself swiping at his tablet to get to his email.

“Hey _Steve_ ,” Bucky breathed out harshly. “It’s one-forty five in the morning, but by the time you receive this it might be nighttime for you.”

By the time Bucky finished his message and got his anger out, he fell asleep. He felt as though it was the first time he actually got some rest.

So, for the next eight months him and Steve communicated by video messages. Each time they would talk about their day outside of their job. Memories, jokes, letting Steve hear the latest tunes that would come out of the underground clubs, and for the past eight months, Bucky Barnes could deny the deep seeded feelings he had for Steve Rogers, and every time he saw that familiar message of _Incoming,_ he knew that those feelings were not going to go away.

* * *

 

 _Day two-forty-four,_ Steve thought as he turned off his alarm. Day two-forty-four was the tech team’s marker for his only hyperspeed check, as when he would have to roll out of it, it would only take another couple of days to reach his destination. The two hundred and forty fourth day was the time he would boot up his ship to zip to his next destination point. It would take twenty days through hyperspeed, and he would have to ease out of the system, because if so, as Sam explained, his molecules would adjust to the hyperspeed and if he didn’t slow down by the fifteenth day, the ship would stop but Steve wouldn’t. Sam would send him an alarm at the exact time, and with the delayed signal, he would have to calculate the exact time on Earth.

Steve put his full trust in his ground team, and well.

He wasn’t nervous at all.

Not the slightest.

Steve leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee, letting the stars twinkle in the distance. This was his favorite moment, sitting on the bridge. Steve saw the blinking red dot on his email, and like clockwork tapped the icon.

**INCOMING MESSAGE: From James B. Barnes**

Steve tapped play.

“ _Good morning Steve!”_ Bucky was a little bit enthusiastic this time around. “ _It’s a Friday. T.G.I.F. am I right?” Bucky chuckled. “Ugh,”_ he let go a breath, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “ _It’s two in the morning when I’m recording this so I’m sorry if my brain is a little all over the place. Well, okay. Today’s a big day for you and your trip. So Natasha should be starting to send the signal at six a.m. and that signal should reach you by eight a.m. on the dot. You know the drill. Seatbelt at the ready,”_ Bucky drew a hand through his hair, and smirked. “ _Reminds me of that time when the Captain during training called hyperspeed literally two seconds before punching hype-button. Caused all of us in the mess hall to fall off of our chairs. When the ship stabilized we were all on the floor, food everywhere,”_ Bucky paused some more and just looked into the camera. Steve saw the bags under Bucky’s eyes, the three day old stubble that he had. He was always clean shaven while on board. Always sharp around the edges. Steve wanted to reach through the screen and hold Bucky’s face with his hand, and use the pad of his thumb to stroke his cheek. He wanted to feel Bucky lean into the grasp and wanted to lean in and kiss the warm lips that Bucky always seemed to have. “ _So. Unless you want your hot coffee all over your uniform or on the the board, my recommendation is to finish the cup before eight,”_ Bucky shrugged, and looked at something off screen. “ _Shit, it’s getting late. Talk to you when you’re in hyperspeed, Steve.”_ Bucky waved and then tapped the icon, having his image freeze on the tablet in front of him. Steve sat back and looked outside, and looked back at the tablet. He tapped at the screen a few more times, until the video message player was up and running.

For the next hour, Steve prepped for his hyperspeed check, getting into uniform and making sure all the ship’s functions were in top shape. At 7:45, Steve sat down and buckled himself tightly into the seat. At 7:59, Steve tapped the play button on his tablet and faced it towards the window, and heard the signal before Steve flipped the switch and pushed the handle to let the ship kick into hyperspeed.

*

Bucky’s computer, four hours later, received the data that the hyperspeed kick was successful, and fifteen minutes after that, he received an email coming from...somewhere.

**INCOMING MESSAGE: From Steven G. Rogers**

He looked around the main area, everyone clapping and celebrating slightly, even though it was a normal test, a normal part of the mission. Bucky had been a part of them all too much. The small celebrations that were going on allowed for people to be distracted for more than a few minutes, which allowed Bucky to take his tablet to a side conference room.

Bucky opened the message from Steve.

“ _You ready for this, Buck? You’re gonna love it...you always used to,”_ Steve said from behind the tablet. The camera kept pointing to beyond the ship’s heavily reinforced windows. Bucky heard the all too familiar signal from Sam, some switches being flipped, and the ship’s engine powering up. Bucky noticed the stars outside start to stretch, hear the ship start to vibrate.

“ _And away we go,”_ Steve said as soon as the ship bucked into hyperspeed.  The video continued for a few more minutes while everything tried to stabilize. That phrase was uttered quietly, and almost too quiet for Bucky to hear, as though it was like Steve didn’t realize it was being picked up by the tablet’s microphone.

That phrase. When Bucky was Steve’s second in command, he always joked he was one of the Captains in those old television shows his ancestors used to watch when television was only a couple of decades old. Bucky was shown a couple back when they were in college during one of the events at the archival museum, and on their way back they would always talk about the episodes.

_“All captains should have a phrase, whenever they leave port, or something,” Steve stuck his hands into his pockets and he walked next to Bucky._

_“That’s a little dramatic, isn’t it?” Bucky laughed._

_“Oh, come on,” Steve shrugged. “Anything would be better than to say ‘engage’ at a photon cannon before someone hit the big button in the middle of the console.”_

_“Alright then, Captain, what would be your big phrase defining moment,” Bucky looked over at Steve who just looked right back._

_“...and away we go,” Steve said._

_Bucky just laughed. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”_

_Steve pushed Bucky lightly, chuckling as well. “Oh, shut up. Like you have anything better. It has to be the right moment. That phrase will be said, one day.”_

_On their first departure from port on their first day as Captain and Second-In-Command, as the ship warmed up, and eventually shot into the atmosphere, Steve leaned over to Bucky and said the phrase ‘and away we go’ just loud enough for Bucky to hear. Bucky chuckled softly and leaned back over, still watching the sky go from shades of blue to the piercing speckled black that space had to offer, and quietly said “Well, context does matter.”_

Sam knocked on the door. “You good?”

Bucky clicked his tablet closed. “Yeah, my mom just sent me a video of my nephew walking.”

Sam gave a smile. “Can I see?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Uh, let’s get back to the floor.”

*

They day was smoother, as they could only follow the small red blinking dot that was following a thin line on the main board, Steve’s ship, and was going just slightly faster than before. The data being transmitted back was average numbers, and well. They could only hope that everything was stabilized as the team passed on the mantel for the overnight shift.

Bucky dropped his briefcase as he entered his home. Still dark, still empty, yet it was still preferable to anything else. He made dinner, he sat in front of the television, he took a long shower.

He took his tablet into this room, and tried to fall asleep.

At eleven on the dot, his tablet pinged and Bucky quickly tried to grab it as quick as possible.

**INCOMING MESSAGE:From  Steven G. Rogers**

Before Bucky started to even hit play, the opening frame was different. Usually Steve was on the bridge - he was able to always see the back doors, or some part of the ship’s console, but today he was surrounded by pillows. Steve was in bed.

“ _Hey Bucky,”_ his voice was rough. “ _It’s five-thirty at night according to my clock. Uh. You’re probably wondering why I am in bed at this hour,”_ Steve laughed. “ _I had to take a nap. Before you get all up in arms about me leaving the bridge before designated hours of completion, I made sure the auto setting was re calibrated for hyperspeed,”_ Steve smirked.

“You forgot that one time, that would be the only reason why I would be pissed off,” Bucky muttered in response.

“ _...and before you say anything aloud, it was one time,”_ Steve laughed, causing his eyes to crinkle at the sides slightly. “ _Oh! This is what I wanted to show you today,”_ Bucky heard covers moving and saw Steve pushing off of the bed slightly, and as he got up to walk around, he held the tablet at a lower angle, letting Bucky see the slightly too tight shirt that Steve was wearing.

It...it was distracting.

Steve looked down and smiled slightly, before he started to talk again. “ _So I was trying to decide what to eat for lunch today,”_ Bucky heard a second set of doors glide, and the scenery changed to what he assumed as the mess hall, “ _and I came across this pack of food,”_ Steve held up a dehydrated pack of - Bucky couldn’t quite make out the words on the screen, “ _It’s so simple yet reminds me of home so much. My ma used to make it a lot when I was a kid. Chicken Noodle soup. All my time on a ship, I’ve never seen it packed. This is a celebration meal for me. I’ll put it back for when I get those rocks,”_ Steve flipped the camera back to the front facing view. “ _Other than that exciting news, the ship is doing fine, and I’m just riding it out until this portion of the trip ends. One day down and nineteen to go. I, uh. I’m not sure if this video will land. You know. Signal and all. So good morning, if it’s morning, good night, if it somehow gets to you before midnight, and if it’s two a.m. and you’re watching this, get to bed, Buck,”_ Steve smiled lightly before waving and tapping the tablet to stop the video.

* * *

  


Fourteen days of hyperpeed travel passed, and Steve was just about to start slowing down the ship, incrementally, but he just had to wait for the signal from the tech team. Bucky had told him all about his days, with Steve being mostly silent. His days were most of the same, and after eight months, and thirteen days, he didn’t know what to say. He had shown Bucky the ship, every so often, and now he was reaching into re showing things. He didn’t want Bucky to lose interest.

He didn’t want Bucky to stop video messaging him.

The time when he would receive video messages took longer and longer thanks to the fact he was further and further away. There was now almost a full day difference between sending and receiving videos. They only found out when Steve didn’t reply until later that night when he had received about three full videos. One, Bucky’s normal morning video, and two other quick videos in a more panicked state - wondering why he hasn’t at least opened it, and the other explaining that he was going onto the floor, he has the keys, _he needed to check your trajectory to make sure you were not killed or...or-_

Steve heard the signal to lower the hyper-speed to 1/5th the speed he was going now. Steve placed his tablet on the ground next to him, to be able to pull the handle towards him, until he heard the first click.

Steve stabilized the ship, and picked the tablet up, and pressed play. “Hey, Bucky, I’m fine. Natasha and Sam calculated the signal perfectly. Ship’s going a fifth slower. We’re still on track for an on time arrival. It’s one in the afternoon now, so you’ll probably get this early tomorrow morning. So,” Steve smiled, “good morning. Feels weird saying that, to be quite honest.”

Steve adjusted himself in his seat. He looked out the window, to the passing stars. He thought about life after these missions. Life at home.

Life with a warm body next to him as he slept, waking up to blue eyes and a scruffy face, leaning into the pillow, telling Steve to _go back to bed, five more minutes, I promise then I will help you with breakfast._

Steve didn’t want to say the name but, he knew who it was. He rubbed his mouth with his free hand, almost immediately realizing that the video was still recording. “Sorry, zoned out there for a few. Uh, I’m good Buck. Talk to you soon.” Steve tapped the stop button, and sent it out.

Steve placed the tablet on the ground and leaned back into his chair, sort of happy that he was this far away from Bucky.

Sort of.

*

Bucky was at the bar when his smaller portable tablet pinged with a new notification. He was tired. He didn’t get any sleep since the night before - he was too busy trying to jiggle the warehouse door open, essentially trying to break the door down so he could see for his own eyes that that blinking red dot was still on the track. He forgot there was the night crew who was monitoring everything do Bucky could sleep. So Steve could sleep as well.

Bucky was leaning over the bar, trying to ignore the person trying to keep a conversation going that never really started in the first place. He heard the all too familiar notification sound and almost spat out his drink.

“You okay?” The person who’d been trying to strike up a conversation asked.

“Yeah, it’s a work email. I gotta answer it. I’ll,” Bucky bit his lip. “I’ll be back in a few.” Bucky slapped down enough for tip and to cover his tab and walked outside to the back alley. He knew he overreacted. He knew from the strange looks he got from the night team when he tried to sit at his desk and work.

He knew from when they called him a cab and forcibly made him go back to bed.

He knew.

Bucky leaned up against the brick wall, letting the low hum of the passing cars above him resonate in the alley. Bucky took a deep breath expecting something bad.

“ _Uh, I’m good, Buck. Talk to you soon.”_

Oh, this was so much worse.

*

Bucky stayed out at the bar for another hour, but drank more than he needed to. For the second time within twenty-four hours, somebody pushed him into a pre-paid cab and sent him on his way home.

For the fourth time in twenty-four hours, Bucky picked up his regular tablet and tapped record on the screen.

“Steve. Good...what is it now? It’s...oh shit, it’s almost three. Good afternoon for you. Uh. I’m drunk, if you couldn’t tell. I just got your message an hour or so ago. _God._ Steve. You’re too far away. It was so much easier when the delay signal was two hours, even four, but twelve hours is too much of a delay. I asked Sam what the delay of data transfer would be when you got out of hyperspeed. He said a day. Twenty-four hours. A whole mish mosh of signal transfers that take a day. Steve, we live in 2252. _Christ,_ you think we’d have this shit all sorted out by now,” Bucky paused. “I need water, and some advil...and I have to see what data was collected overnight in...five hours. Don’t forget that Sam should have given you the signal at 8. You need to click down another fifth. Goodnight Steve. I’ll probably be too hungover to respond to you tomorrow.”

Bucky tapped the stop button, let his tablet fall in his hands, and press the palm of his hands to his eyes, trying to stop the slight burn from the tears from welling up in his eyes, spilling over on his face.

He missed him.

Bucky missed Steve.

 

*

Steve watched the video thrice over, the next afternoon, and sent Bucky back a small video explaining that he got the signal from Sam, and was 2/5ths out of hyperspeed.

Bucky never responded.

The day after, he reduced another click out of hyperspeed, and sent a follow up to Bucky, and so on and so forth before he eased out of hyperspeed.

Steve stabilized the ship, and he felt as though he just needed to stabilize everything for a moment, to catch his breath.

To get a cup of coffee.

*

Steve sat back down at his chair, and pressed a few buttons on his chair, pulling up the official communications system. Steve cleared his throat and looked at the camera. His face materialized in the reflected video. He looked...looked different. Tired, gaunt, unshaven. Just...different. Months of solo space travel would do that to you...no one to look after you, no one to say that you should eat that extra meal.

Steve cleared his throat, positioned himself, and pressed record.

“This is Captain Steven Grant Rogers, from the ship the U.S.S.S. Eagle. I have been sent by the capital to retrieve the crystal supply that has been mined. I am about,” Steve checked his watch “Forty-five hours from docking. Please respond to know that you have received this message. Can’t wait to get my two feet on some solid ground. Over and out.”

Steve hit the enter button twice on his chair to send it to the mining facility base, flipped some more buttons and let the ship fly.

He didn’t hear anything back after a few hours, but wanted to try and give the mining colony the benefit of the doubt. They could be just be going about their day, or it might take some time to receive the message. He had time before docking his ship.

Day turned into the afternoon, which slowly turned into evening and Steve started to bounce his leg in anxiety. Nothing. Steve flipped a few switches, pulling the video screen back on the window. He pressed record.

“This is Captain Steve Rogers of the U.S.S.S. Eagle, calling to announce my arrival and docking at the facility. I have been sent by the capital to retrieve the crystal supply that has been mined. Please respond to me that I you received this message. This is the second time I have sent, and no response has been given. It has been over the set of hours the data provided in telling me regarding any sort of delay between communication devices. Over and out.”

Steve pressed the enter button twice to let the message transfer, but he felt as though something was wrong. That little voice in his head saying that something was just not quite right. He got out of his chair, making sure that the autopilot calibration was in working order before leaving the bridge. He found himself walking straight to his quarters, and picking up his tablet. It had been a few days since him and Bucky talked, and he really wasn’t sure why he had been ignoring him. Steve made sure he sent the updates - he didn’t want Bucky going into overdrive again, causing him to stay up more than he already does, but this was past being personal.

Steve sat on his bed, swiping at his tablet, and pulling up the video messaging system. Steve looked at his clock. By the time Bucky would get this message, it would already be too late to ask for any assistance. He would already be docking at the facility. This was way past a distress call.

“Hey Bucky, I know we haven’t really talked in a few days. Not sure why, but I’m running into an issue. I need you to check when the last data report was given from the mining facility. I sent them two messages about my arrival, about eight hours apart. Not sure why they haven’t messaged me back, or _something_ ,” Steve paused. “Somethings wrong. I’ll be sending a much more formal recording back to the tech team. By the time you reply, I’ll already will be grounded.”

Steve set his tablet aside, dragged his hand over his face, and pushed himself off the bed. It felt like a thousand weights were on his shoulders.

Steve sat in his chair on the bridge and flipped the buttons once again to pull up the video recording device on his window, and stare back at himself. He hit record.

“This is Captain Steve Rogers, U.S.S.S. Eagle. Uh,” Steve sighed. “I’m good, ship’s fine. I’m reporting and requesting any sort of information regarding the mining facility. Data points, rock survey reports. Anything. I sent two messages regarding docking confirmation, but nothing has been received as of yet. I will go forward with the mission provided, as we cannot confirm or deny anything as of yet. Uh,” Steve blew out hair from his mouth. “Over and out.”  


* * *

_  
24 hours later _

**INCOMING MESSAGE: From Steven G. Rogers**

Bucky received the video, hesitant to open it. He sat down on his couch, not expecting much, since his last few ones from him were just small updates.

“ _By the time you reply I’ll already be grounded.”_

“Crap,” Bucky said aloud, right before his personal tablet buzzed. An emergency alert was sent to his phone, from the night time tech team.

**_Emergency Alert. Incoming Message from Captain Steve Rogers aboard the U.S.S.S. Eagle._ **

The video attached was a more formal version of what Bucky received just minutes ago. Steve was sitting in his chair, facing the ship’s camera. “ _Fuck.”_

Sam’s icon appeared on the top of his screen.

_Hey - did you get Cap’s VM?_

_Fury’s probably gonna want us_

_to get to the think tank._

Not minutes later, he got an email from Fury explaining that all main day crew should report to the the control room.

 _See you_ _at the boards,_ Bucky texted Sam back.

*

Steve maneuvered the ship into port, giving time for the roof to open enough for the ship to land. A small shift, and the sound of the ship and outside cabin stabilizing, allowed Steve to suit up, and make sure all systems were clear before stepping off.

_ALL SYSTEMS CLEAR. OUTSIDE OF SHIP STABILIZED. CLEAR FOR EXTERIOR SUIT. RADIATION LEVELS AT NORMAL. CLEAR FOR DE-BOARDING._

Steve unbuckled himself from the chair and made to to carry both his tablet and communicator. He walked to the door, secured his helmet, and pressed his passcode before the door ejected and slowly lowered into a makeshift stair.

It was quiet.

The port was not supposed to be quiet.

This was bad.

Very, very bad.

*

Steve walked up to the facility’s doors, letting the first one open smoothly. When he was inside, and the airlock was shut, Steve unlocked his helmet, put it under his left arm, and let the sanitizing jets fill the room up with air. Coughing, he tried to move the air out of his face as it seeped back into the walls. Steve punched in his passcode and the door opened.

“Hello?” Steve’s voice reverberated against the empty hallways. “This is Captain Steve Rogers, Earth, of the USSS Eagle.” Steve took a left out of the door and kept walking down. No one came through with carts, no scientists with long data sheets, no young bright eyed students walking through the halls with wonder. He stopped at the directory.

Main Lab ↑

Formatting Lab ￫

Energy Lab ↞

Quarters ↓

They could be in a meeting. All three thousand of the inhabitants could be sitting in one big lecture hall discussing new techniques. It could be the anniversary of the facility opening. There could be a private parade or a mandatory day off of the lab, and could be the reason why no one was here.

Steve kept walking along the hallway towards the main lab. There would have to be at least one person on call if it was a day off. Things just didn’t come to a stop, especially at a place that was designed to be  continuously working around the clock.

Steve’s personal tablet started to ping with a message, and he ignored it as Steve kept walking towards the closed door ahead. The tablet continued to ping, and _ping, and become louder and_ **_louder_ **and as Steve turned the doorknob and -

Nothing happened. The door was locked.

Steve took a deep breath. There was something, or someone behind the door that could wait a few more minutes. He took his personal tablet out from his back pocket, and swiped to open his tablet.

**_Emergency Alert - Incoming Message from Ground Control_ **

Steve tapped the play button to hear his extended team’s voice.

“ _Hi, Cap. Sam here...obviously. I we got your message as of thirty six hours since we’ve received your call. We have boosted our signal down here but it’s only temporary, as the computers will overload if we keep this boost up for long. One time only,”_ Sam sighed.

“ _Hey Steve.”_ Natasha always was the informal one, but Steve didn’t mind. “ _You have to get out of that facility. Grab what you can but speed up the process ,”_ Steve gripped his personal tablet a little tighter. _“We checked the data signals - you were -[glitch]- about something being off, but it’s way worse than you think. Back about two years ago, things started getting funky. Strange enough that Ground contacted the - [glitch] -  there,”_ she held up a paper with a long transcript. “ _Steve, these pages is the same numbers over and over again. Whoever was in control up there has been sending false information. There’s a huge security risk,”_ Steve heard some muffled yelling in the background.

Sam stepped back into view, as he looked behind him, and turned back. _“Some shit has been going down in Fury’s office since the missing files were discovered. The control team down here has been pretty quiet, out of fear mostly. As - [glitch] - said there’s a risk. Grab the crystals and haul - [glitch] - out of there.”_

Steve hit the tablet a couple times on the side.

“ _Hey, we’re losing the signal booster. Battery is draining quick,”_ Bucky said off to the side, “ _Hurry it up if you don’t want to replace four of the cells tonight.”_

_“The crystals are in the main lab, according to a final report by one of their archivists that sent out an email -”_

_“They sent out a f- [glitch] - email for the location, are you serious?!”_ Bucky groaned.

“ _-[glitch]- in the -[glitch]- Lab. Please send us some sort of update when you retrieved the -[glitch]-”_

The video sputtered and cut out, ending with a simple **_END TRANSMISSION_** in bold red letters.

Steve pocketed his tablet and tried to open the door in front of him again.

And again.

With more force, Steve tried again, now using his shoulder to leverage the door open. He burst through, tripping on nothing, letting his helmet roll to the side as he fell on the ground.

The first thing Steve noticed was the putrid smell. It permeated his nostrils, and stuck on his skin. 

He knew that smell.

Steve immediately got up from the ground and grabbed his helmet, locking it into place and hoping that the CO2 filtration system would switch on quickly and remove any smell of decomposing flesh. There were two bodies leaning over the main board, and as Steve walked closer and closer he saw that the clothes they had worn when...whatever happened, whatever occurred, obscured the fact that they were mostly bone, with patches of still decomposing muscle in some places. He walked as far as he could before pools of liquid surrounded the chairs. Steve looked up at the screen - a flashing message of **_INCOMING MESSAGE: 256 MISSED COMMUNICATIONS_ **with a thick layer of dust over it, that obscured the image slightly.

Steve looked over to the second scientist, who’s hand was still on the handle, pushing up, like nothing had ever changed from their last day.

Steve started to breathe heavy, and quickly and suddenly started to feel like he was in a small room, rather than a large laboratory. He walked backwards from the gruesome scene and quickly got out, shutting the door as tight as he could. He unlatched his helmet, and vomited into the nearest trash can.

After he spat, he held himself over the can, stabilizing himself.

He had a mission. Get whatever he could, get out, get back home. The smell was still in his nose, and he had a feeling that it just wouldn't go away until he exited the atmosphere of the planet.

Steve kept walking down the long hallway, seeing more things than before. Stains that were on the ceiling, dust that had been collected in a pile - things that were out of place, and not at the same time. It was then that Steve fell terribly alone.

Alone, and right out in the open, feeling like something could attack him at any moment.

He couldn’t panic. He couldn’t run to a bunker, he couldn’t run to the nearest gun. The only thing Steve could do to ease himself was just look over his shoulder to make sure nothing was following him, and continue to walk.

So that’s what Steve did.

The hallway curved, placing Steve in front of the formatting lab. From his brief rundown of the mission before he left, he was shown the orientation video, so he could get familiar of facility before just randomly walking into doors that led to people’s rooms or something worse. The lab was supposedly where the crystals were cut and rendered to be used, and well, it was dangerous from what the orientation video conjured up.

When Steve opened the door, however, the real danger wasn’t from the lab. It was from whatever caused the technician’s head be on the floor and their body was sprawled on the chair near the scopes.

It was a sight to see, and a sight that he hoped that no one ever would stumble upon.

*

The Formatting Lab was where the stash of completed crystals were being kept. Underneath some papers, and a good layer of dust, Steve crouched down to fish out the briefcase. It took him a few tugs, as it was heavier than expected, but once it started to shimmy, it slid with ease against the tiled floor. Steve wiped off the layer of dust, and entered his pin. The small circle turned as it continued to process the information that was given.

“Come on, _come on,_ I don’t have all day here,” Steve muttered to himself, as he tapped the case lightly. A soft sound of the case unlocking and the top opened, with a slight bounce. Steve opened it more, revealing nine formatted crystals, perfectly shaped, in nice neat rows.

He was only expecting one, but when he pulled the case forward, the foam insert shifted. Steve carefully lifted the top layer, seeing nine more underneath, and he had to assume there was room for nine more below.

Steve closed the case, and made sure to lock his helmet back on before heading back to the ship. He took one of the rolling chairs from the lab and placed the heavy plastic case on top, allowing for a quicker way out. He started to push the chair out of the room, back into the long winding hallway. Before he exited the room, Steve looked back to the headless body behind the plexiglass barrier.

Slumped over in their chair, head by their feet. Steve shut the light, and pushed the chair back to the ship.

*

Steve secured the case in the compartment underneath his seat, making sure they wouldn’t budge if they hit any rough patches, or had to at least swerve in between any sort of field he might run into. Steve flipped the power switch for the ship, stabilized, pressurized, and drove the ship out of the port, thanking the fact the port was automated.

* * *

_24 hours later_

“How long has it been?” Bucky asked, as he swiveled his chair back and forth. Natasha just gave him a glaring look.

“Five minutes since you last asked, that’s how long,” Natasha replied. Bucky only rolled his eyes. “We’ll get a message back, when we get a message back. Look, there are an infinite number of possibilities that could have happened. For all we know that facility is up and running and that, I don’t know, someone forgot to flip a switch or -” Natasha was cut off by Sam standing up, and squinting at the main board. “What’s up?”

“The ship’s back online. The dot just appeared on the star map.”

Bucky stood up from his chair, and placed his hands on his desk. “Prep for incoming message, soon.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, for one, because we asked. Two, I think there’s more to the story than just data being fudged.”

*

**INCOMING MESSAGE: From Captain Steve Rogers**

Steve was as pale as a sheet of paper. His blue eyes pierced through, as it contrasted from his skin tone. His head was in his hand, while he leaned on his same on on the arm rest, as he sat in his chair. It was informal, and formal at the same time. Steve shifted in his seat, and cleared his throat.

“ _I don’t know where to begin. I don’t know what to talk about first,”_ he shifted in his seat, so his arms were resting on his legs, leaning forward. “ _I sent two messages to the crew. One as soon as I checked out of hyperspeed, and the second hours later after no transmission was received back. I had a job to do, so I still went through with it, especially because I just really wanted to get on solid ground. Automatic opening still works for the port, sanitizing sensors still up to par,”_ Steve took a deep breath before he continued _. “The hallways were empty. No one coming out of rooms, no sound coming out of the speaker system. You could hear a pin drop. I found the Main Lab - I was informed prior to my mission that this was also the location of main communication in the facility. I walked in, helmet to my side and,”_ Steve’s head dropped. The microphones were sensitive to pick up Steve sniffling. “ _They’re dead. The people I saw are dead, and probably died a long time ago.”_ Steve looked up to the camera again, face flushed slightly. Everyone was silent. “ _They have been dead for a while, but I think they knew it was coming. I have secured around 27 formatted crystals that were being collected. The lab tech didn’t fair well either. I’m not going to subject to you what I saw. Either the team knew that something was going to happen, or they were going to shut things down.  I will get out of orbit tomorrow. We will resume the trip back to earth four days time. I will wait for the signal to click back into hyperspeed. I’m tired, and I need rest. Over and out.”_

Bucky leaned back in his chair, resting his head in his hand, as it covered his lips. He looked around the quiet room. There were soft murmurs scattered around the room.

The ‘ _What do we do?’s,_ the _‘where do we go from here?’s_ were spoken lightly. Bucky picked up his briefcase and ran his hand through his dirty hair.

“Hey, where are you going?” Same looked over at Bucky, pushing in his chair.

“Home.”

“But -“

“I’m going home. I haven’t had a shower, I’m tired. I’ll be back for the signal transfer. Good,” Bucky looked at his watch, “whatever. See you in 24 hours.”

*

 

Steve sat on his bed, with his hands hooked around his neck, trying to relieve the tension, but it just wasn’t going away. Steve laid back onto the bed, only realizing when he tried to get comfortable that his tablet was digging into his back.

**NO NEW MESSAGES**

Steve tried to ignore it, but the small nagging sensation in the back of his brain wouldn’t stop until he took his tablet and swiped through the applications to get to his video messaging app. He adjusted himself so I his back was on the metal wall. He crossed his legs, set the tablet on top and hit record.

*

Bucky got out of the shower, thankful that he still had enough shampoo so he didn’t have to run over quickly to QuickPharm™️ and delay his relaxation any longer. He put on a pair of sweatpants and placed his hair in a bun. It felt like the middle of the night, and it surprised Bucky when he looked at the clock and it only being 4pm.

He just could go back to sleep now.

Bucky sifted through his mail on his tablet, ignoring the red notification and big bold white letters said **INCOMING MESSAGE: From Steve G Rogers** every time he swiped to his home page.

He was going to wait.

He could see Steve after what was given to him at work. The pain, the loss, the lack of control - especially when Bucky wasn’t there to help.

He wanted to hold Steve’s face in his hands, look him dead in the eyes, and tell him everything was going to be okay. In nine months time he would be back at Earth, gearing up for something new, something exciting, and he wanted to tell Steve that he wanted to be by his side every step of the way.

In both the sense of being Steve’s Second-in-Command and on a more personal level.

That evening, before Bucky went to bed, he bit the bullet, and clicked play.

Steve looked just as tired and pale than he did before. The light from his screen illuminated his face.

“ _You probably heard my message to Ground today. I just,”_ Steve paused to purse his lips together _, “it was horrible. I think they knew their end was coming. One person hand their hand on a lever to send out a message but something got to them. Another’s  head was on the floor on the formatting lab and their flesh was decaying and,”_ Steve’s voices started to tremor. He never showed this side to anyone. “ _Something happened - aliens, depressurization - , something, and I just can’t quite figure it out. Bucky, I’m so alone. I thought I would prefer a solo trip. That’s why I took it. I needed to change it up. I couldn’t quite step onto a full plane without thinking of the last mission,”_ Steve paused _, “I’m going to bed early, but,” he took a deep breath “nine more months until I can step back on Earth and breath that air again, and not this manufactured shit...sorry to just unload my feelings on you. You deserve better, Buck. Uh, goodnight. Over and out.”_

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose before adjusting himself on his bed so he was sitting up, and pressed record.

“Hey Steve, uh, I did hear your message at Ground. I’m sorry to you had to experience that first hand. When we first heard your message that something was up, team was on its toes. We just heard Fury yelling at people for hours. The formatting facility is still our part of the branch. Didn’t think his voice could carry that far, to be quite honest,” Bucky chuckled. “Don’t be angry at yourself, because you chose this. I’m the only one who should be angry that you took it. Don’t be ashamed of anything your feeling. You can unload any of your feelings onto me, anytime, Steve,” Bucky paused as a thought flashed through his mind that wasn’t particularly...appropriate for a friend to think, but he allowed the thought to finish. “Look, it’s me who doesn’t deserve you. You…you have been the best thing that’s happened to me my whole life. It’ll be,” Bucky looked at the clock, “9pm when this is delivered to you. Eleven more hours until you will hear the signal. Also,” Bucky cleared his throat, “sorry for that message a few days ago. I was drunk, and probably not the most coherent. Can this,” Bucky moved his hand between himself and the tablet, “go back to normal? “Uh, goodnight, Steve. Don’t do that over and out shit to me. I’m still your second-in-command, as far as documents go. If you wake up in the middle of the night, due to...whatever, feel free to just send me a message. I’m only a day or so away,” Bucky smiled. “Don’t be a stranger, Steve.”

* * *

 

The next morning, Sam sent the signal to Steve’s ship in order for him to click hyperspeed, and leaned back in the chair. He looked over to Bucky, who popped his gun a few times.

“You’re in a good mood, Barnes,” Sam leaned back in his chair, and lifted an eyebrow.

“Huh?” Bucky looked over at Sam, who was grinning.

“Good morning, losers,” Natasha plopped into her seat and looked over at Bucky who muttered a measly ‘ _morning’._ Natasha looked at Sam, quirking an eyebrow, and looking back at Bucky. “Why you so cheery this morning?”

“I really don’t know what your talking about.”

“Bucky got laid,” Sam said as he sipped his coffee. Bucky almost choked on his gum.

“That is entirely not true,” Bucky spat out the piece of chewed gum into a napkin.

“I don’t believe you,” Natasha said.

“You don’t believe anybody.”

“So who were they? Who was the lucky person to spend a night with the one and only _James Barnes?”_ Sam leaned in, squinting.

Bucky matched Sam’s position and quietly said so only Natasha and Sam could hear and said “My left hand.” Bucky winked and got up from his chair. “Coffee time.”

* * *

_“Don’t be a stranger, Steve.”_

Steve played the message over and over again. It was a night of no sleep, the night before. Any time he closed his eyes, the images played over and over again. Steve tried to get comfortable in his bed, and put his tablet on his small stand. He played the video and watched it once more. He closed his eyes to the sound of Bucky’s voice, pretending he was laying his head on the pillow right next to Steve.

Steve took a deep breath and shifted in his bed, as nothing else was going to help him fall asleep. He swooped a few apps and pulled up the video message app and pressed record as he was still supine in bed.

“Good evening, Buck, it’s two AM, and I can’t fall asleep...again. About that message, I think you are the most coherent drunk person I have ever met. Remember that night I asked you to be Second in command?” Steve lifted his arm from his covers and rested it on his head, and chuckled. “Now _that’s_ a time I’ve seen you at your worst. I can’t look at whiskey without thinking about that day on the bridge when you spent ninety percent of it in the bathroom,” Steve laughed. “But, you were right. Twenty four hours is a lot. I think once I get out of that hyperspeed it’ll be back to twelve. We can say our good mornings and good nights again. I can’t tell you how sane you’ve kept me,” Steve shifted again in the bed and yawned, and slowly closed his eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do without hearing your voice,” Steve muttered. “Looks like I’m actually gonna at least get some hours, before it wakes me up again,” Steve cracked an eyelid open. “Get some sleep, it’s late,” Steve smiled and pressed send.

*

Steve got four hours of sleep, but he felt as though the sleep was at least heavy.

Coffee.

Banana.

Tablet.

Sit on the bridge, and watch the stars flicker in the distance as he started his day.

Get dressed into his uniform, and wait for the signal sent by Sam.

Steve rested the tablet and pressed record.

“ _Good morning,_ Bucky! It is day…uh, I forgot the amount of days. But it’s hyperspeed day. Signal is supposed to come, and I know you like that,” Steve placed his hand on the lever, and waited for another thirty seconds. As promised, eight on the dot, the signal came through. “ _And away we go.”_

* * *

Bucky sat down at his desk and sipped his coffee. The small red dot was moving at a slightly faster pace. Hyperspeed, check.

Bucky’s personal tablet pinged. He knew he had one message from Steve sitting in his inbox , but he was going to watch it later.  Bucky has...something of an idea as to what exactly it was about - hyperspeed check and all. Sam and Natasha weren’t around - water cooler talk about the 3,000th episode of Supernatural or something like that. He placed his ear buds and pressed play.

“ _And away we go.”_

Bucky smiled, and played it back a couple more times, until he felt a tapping on his shoulders. Bucky jumped in his seat and scrambled to flip his tablet over. Sam gave the universal message to take his headphones out.

“Oh,” Bucky acted normal, and cleared his throat. “Hey.”

He _tried_ to act normal.

“Don’t tell me your watching porn while clocked in?” Sam asked.

“No, uh. Cat videos."

“Can I see?”

“No.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Well, if it is porn, watch it in the bathroom on your lunch break, like everyone else.”

“It’s not porn,” Bucky repeated. _And definitely not something I will be saving,_ Bucky thought. “Also, wait. Do you watch on your lunch break?!”

Sam swiped something on his computer and punched in a few numbers. “Uh,” he paused for too long.

“You know what? I don’t want to know,” Bucky sighed. “Anyway, how’d you get that signal booster? To get the message to Captain Rogers’ quicker.”

Sam turned his chair to Bucky, and leaned back. “It was just your basic box adapter. I don't know how the video worked. I mean, obviously it went through, but it could have looked like three blobs were talking to him.”

“But it increased the transfer to twelve hours instead of twenty-four, right?”

“Yeah?” Sam agreed, but was skeptical for the use. “What are you going to use it for?”

“No reason, just curious.”

Later that day as Bucky was heading home, he swiped the back-up signal booster from the lab, hoping that no one noticed.

*

Bucky almost choked on his water as he opened up the message that Steve sent him. He wasn’t expecting him to be wrapped up in his blankets. His beard was getting long and scraggly, as if he didn’t have a full shaving kit in his bathroom nearby. He pressed play.

He pressed play and listened to Steve Rogers - his Captain, his best friend, slowly fall asleep and almost forget to turn the recorder off - quietly tell that his voice keeps Steve sane. He’s not sure if it’s something that Steve intended to say - as if it was a thought that wasn’t supposed to be spoken aloud.

But it was, and well...Bucky couldn’t ignore it.

(He watched the message three more times that evening - and would be lying to himself if he justified it to missing vital information, rather than to just hear Steve say that phrase again.)

*

The days were getting long and repetitive for Steve. Four days out and he was already pacing on the bridge. Bucky still hadn’t messaged him back, but he had to keep remembering that the delivery of the message was going to be delayed.

The past two days’ sleep was non existent. He kept seeing bodies, he kept seeing pools of liquid by his feet.

 _What if Fury proposed the job earlier_ , Steve would think. _What if I knew what was going to happen, I could have saved them, I could have -_

**INCOMING MESSAGE: From James B. Barnes**

Steve tapped play.

“ _Hey there, Steve. Sorry I haven’t contacted you. Some friend, am I right?”_ Bucky chuckled. “ _I really don’t have an excuse other than I couldn’t get passed your scraggly beard. Looks like a Bither crawled up on your mug and died there,”_ Bucky winked. “ _But seriously. I was so used to you without it for nine months, and after like ten days you’re Mr. Mountaineer. I’m hoping your getting sleep, and not letting your Martyr complex over take your thoughts. Look, I gotta go. I have to go to the CinePlex with the crew. Team bonding. Get some sleep, Steve. You deserve it,”_ Bucky went to press stop, but paused. “ _If it’s anything. Don’t shave the beard, just clean it up...it looks good on you._ ”

Steve scrubbed the video and paused it right when Bucky’s was about to stop it. A small twinge of jealousy passed through him. He was jealous of the ground crew that they were able to be with him, spend time with Bucky. Be able to hug him, touch him, see Bucky’s smile.

Steve pinched his nose. He was jealous of the people that were able to be with Bucky, able to spend time with him, able to touch him.

He was jealous.

Steve was jealous.

Steve rubbed his chin, and felt the beard underneath his hand. He walked to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. Bucky was right - it was scraggly. He prepared his shaving area and started to clean up the mess that was on his face.

Maybe it’ll look better for him.

Maybe Bucky would like it.

*

After all was set and done on the bridge, Steve retreated to his quarters. His eyes were tired, but his mind was not. He was in his bed for a few hours, before Steve gave up and grabbed his tablet, and opened the app.

“Hey, Buck, it’s one AM. A little earlier than usual, am I right?” Steve laughed, and shifted in his bed. “I hope you had a good time at the movies with the crew. What did you see? I’m itching to watch a new one. They didn’t preload any ones that were going to come out in the CinePlex. I guess they were worried I might blab about which one was good or not. They did upload some ones from the mid twentieth century. I think those are my favorites, but you already know that. Oh,” Steve stuck out his chin. “Better? Took your advice. Beard did look like a dead Bither on my face. It was pretty spot on,” Steve laughed. “Hope you like it better than the Mr. Mountaineer look, _your words,_ ” Steve bit the inside of his lip. “The days are getting long and repetitive. I can’t wait until I’m out of hyperspeed.  Then at least the view is better. Seeing all the planets and what not,” a small smile tugged on Steve’s face. “This is getting too long. Goodnight, Bucky.”

*

Days later Steve received two messages from Bucky. He opened up the first.

“ _Hey Steve, got your message. No more dead Bithers on your face. Just you and your ugly mug,”_ Bucky winked. _“But it looks good. Keep it that way. I hear your in need of some new movies, and well, something was just uploaded to the CinePlex mainframe for the at home use. An oldie. Put it up on the main bridge so you can get a good view.”_

The video ended abruptly, and Steve followed the instructions. He got comfortable in his chair and pressed play. He saw Bucky smiled into the camera, as he adjusted his tablet. Bucky moved out of the way, showing that the television was set up, with the CinePlex™️ logo moving around the screen. He heard Bucky clear his throat before pressing play.

“ _Movie time, Steve. Command Six-Three-Four-Two-One,”_ Bucky said loud enough, as the ship was able to respond. The lights dimmed. Steve smiled.

Bucky pressed play, and _Fantasia_ began, letting the music swirl through the ship.

*

Bucky walked into work. It had been three days since he watched the movie, and two since he saw that Steve had opened the message. It was nice.

The feeling of _almost_ hanging out with Steve. The feeling of _almost_ being with him.

It was nice.

But the idea that Steve was his friend first, his Captain second, and really no _true_ notion that well, Steve even liked him.

 _Huh,_ Bucky thought. It was something he thought of, but really _truly_ never came to the conclusion. All the years of being by his side, all the years being with him, denying it whenever it became almost an intrusive thought.

The years looking at him, watching his body move throughout the ship. Watching his smile, whenever he came to sit by him and how it made Bucky feel happy that someone else was happy to see him. Bucky wanted to be with Steve. He wanted to be with Steve as he did his chores, as he sweeped the living room, as he got into bed and pulled the covers up, turning to face him before saying goodnight. Turning over in bed, allowing Steve’s hand to drape over and pull him close. Pulling him close so he could feel his warmth, his muscles, his bearded chin resting on his neck -

Bucky sat down at his desk, depositing his briefcase underneath, placing a hand over his eyes to try and recalibrate his own mind. This wasn’t what he wanted to think about as he sat down, but it was at the same time.

“You good?” Sam asked as he sat down near Bucky.

“Uh,” Bucky sighed. “Just,” he tried to continued to talk, but it only came out like a sigh.

“People problems?”

“Yes and no,” Bucky said as he typed in his password.

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. “How so?”

Bucky leaned back in his chair. “I have this friend, and this friend has been on a business trip to Australia. Every few days or so we talk to each other by email and video messaging, so we can see each other faces. There’s a bit of a time lag due to time zones,” Bucky bit the inside of his lip.

“I don’t see any issues with this so far.”

“I think I have developed feeling for this person, this guy.”

“Okay,” Sam nodded his head.

Bucky sighed. “But I think I’ve always had these feelings for him. Since we’ve known each other. Me and this guy. We watched a movie together...kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“Sat next to my tablet as it recorded the movie playing.”

“Huh,” Sam just said. “Did he do the same? Watch the recording of the movie and you?”

“He opened the message.”

“But you don’t know if he watched it?”

“I have a feeling he did.”

“So your people problems are…? I don’t see anything wrong with what’s going on.”

“I’m not sure if these feelings being reciprocated.”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Sam said matter of factly. “Ask him if he likes you, then you can go from there.”

“What if he’s just happy for someone to speak to?” Bucky turned back to his desk and started looking through his data files from overnight. “That he’s just happy because it’s something that takes his mind off the nightmares?”

“Escapism?”

“Kind of? It’s hard to explain.”

“Well, did he start responding to your messages after whatever happened?”

"No,” Bucky pursed his lips. “We’ve been talking like this for a little less than a year.”

“You can only know if you ask. There’s no harm in that. Now,” Sam turned back to his computer. “The Therapist Sam facade has dissolved away, and Friend Sam is back. I had _the best_ beer at the DrinkHole last night.”

Bucky cocked an eyebrow and laughed. “You said that last week when you went.”

*

Bucky got home a little later than usual. He data was flowing in from the ship, nothing bad, but nothing great. It all had to be logged for future ship use. The water temperature fluctuations when not in use, the increased air flow, on and on.

**NO NEW MESSAGES**

It was displayed right on his tablet.

He didn’t want to admit that he was disappointed. Bucky grabbed the signal booster from the draw below and connected it to his tablet. Bucky fixed his hair in the unrecorded video, making sure he felt as though it was right.

Bucky sighed, and pressed record.

* * *

Steve didn’t message back from his previous email that he received. He wanted to, but...he didn’t know what to say without words tumbling out of his mouth. He wanted to make sure what he said was _right._ He didn’t know of Bucky liked him, but what he did for him - talking to him, taking his mind off of those memories, making his mind sound and calm.

Steve sipped his coffee as the stars rode on by.

**INCOMING MESSAGE: From James B Barnes**

He pressed play on his tablet.

“ _Hey Steve, it’s,”_ Bucky looked at his personal tablet, “ _Nine-thirty at night. So, good morning to you,”_ he nervously smiled.

 _Twelve hours? How did he get the message here? Also, why is he nervous?_ Steve thought’s tumbled in his brain.

“ _Uh, I just want to reserve this time to...to talk to you. Face to face. Kind of,”_ Bucky chuckled. The video hitched slightly, but it was practically unnoticeable. “ _So, for the past, what ten months or so we’ve been talking -[glitch]- . I,”_ Bucky sighed, “ _I don’t want us to -[glitch]- talk. I want us to…-[glitch]- more than just what we are. We can’t keep doing this, Steve. I think we need to face the reality of us. It’s either -[glitch]- or nothing. Please let me know. Because, I…-[glitch]- you. I really, really fucking -[glitch]- you,”_ Bucky breathed deeply, and held his head in his head. “ _If you feel the same, or...or don’t. Please let me know. Have a good day, Steve. Don’t be a stranger,”_ Bucky took his head out of his hands and pursed his lips together, and tapped something on his tablet, stopping the video.

By the end of the the message, all the energy left Steve’s body.

Bucky didn’t want to continue talking to him.

Suddenly, for no reason at all, Steve wanted to sleep and let the memories overtake him.

Bucky waited a few days for Steve to respond, but nothing came through his email.

He waited some more.

Eventually, Steve clicked out of hyperspeed.

Bucky would come in and go out from work, making his days monotonous. Sam would check on him every few days or so, but Bucky would wave it off as nothing.

A month passed, and nothing was heard back unofficially from Bucky. Ground still got updates. Small little emails from Steve giving thumbs up that he was out of hyperspace, or at least not captured by some aggressive enemy.  Natasha would look over at Bucky with mild concern, and ask if he wanted to go out for drinks, or catch a movie at the CinePlex™️, but Bucky would just always reply, “I’m good.”

Two months passed and Bucky tried to look forward. He didn’t want to think that it was the ultimate end of their friendship, at least. They were friends first, even if Bucky still remembered all those touches they shared. Bucky didn’t want to believe it had been two months since the hyperspeed check was done. He was maneuvering his ship back to Earth, with all twenty-seven crystals. Maybe the road had been turbulent, and he had to keep his hands on the wheel. Maybe it was on his to-do list.  Maybe Bucky was ignoring all of those reports sent in by Steve that well, the ship was doing fine.

The third month Bucky was angry. Angry enough that he asked Natasha to come to the PhysioGym™️ and help release some anger. Angry enough that when he started to punch on the punching bag everything started to release. He heard Natasha’s start to drag him out, but by the time he snapped out of it, his metal arm punched through the bag, and the sand fell on the floor.

“ _James,”_ Natasha said, as she held his weary head.

“He doesn’t like me,” Bucky said as he covered hers with his own.

Natasha just looked at him, pursed her lips. “Well, fuck him. You deserve better.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Take those words back right now. You deserve the world.”

Four months passed. Bucky would lay in bed, thinking over all the things that went wrong. He just wanted to hear his voice. He would give up his job, move up to a new city if it meant he wouldn’t have to be reminded of Steve. He just...wanted things to go back to normal if it meant something drastic, but hell. Bucky knew that wasn’t his schtick.

By five months Bucky started to feel a little out of the clouds. A little more focused and attuned to work, to life, to moving on in the world.

Natasha was right. He deserved the world.

* * *

Steve was tired.

Tired of space.

Tired of being alone.

Tired of being tired.

He had two more months until he was back, back to empty houses, back to moving like a pawn in the crowd, back to staying up until his body physically told him to go to bed.

He needed purpose other than just to walk into Fury’s office and to see if there was a job he could take, or a job that he would have to have Fury give to him. It was a waiting game, and well.

Steve was really fed up with waiting games.

On his last meal before flying the ship back into the port in D.C., Steve took out the only packet of food that was left. A meal of Chicken Noodle soup.

Back when he was a kid, he had some rare disorder, that not even the scientists could figure out. He was practically always sick, and his mom, _God Bless_ her soul tired everything she could to make Steve comfortable. Warm packs from the QuickPharm™️ when he felt chilly. Copious amounts of fluids and teas, and gross waters filled with enhanced electrolytes, name it all.

Before the doctors pinpointed his abnormality at age twelve, his mom would always make a pack of Chicken Noodle soup. She would say that back in the 20th century, her grandmother five times over would give this to her son when he wasn’t feeling well, and although it didn’t remove the sickness, but it sure did make them feel better (at least from family stories). The recipe was written down and passed from generation to generation, but when Steve came back from training, some accident had taken the one person that Steve knew gave constant love to anyone she met.

He looked and looked, but couldn’t find the recipe anywhere in the house, anywhere in the archives and felt that it was lost forever.

Steve took his bowl of soup to the lounge. A single small room on the ship, where a nice comfy chair and some books were placed. This was not standard regulation, but issued by the Psych team, as they said it would provide comfort in a time of stress, and if stress is present, the crew would be not optimal to preform. In all of of his _almost_ two years of travel for this one mission, this was Steve’s first time using it. Maybe he was stressed and didn’t realize it, but he concluded that it was just because he needed a change of scenery for the first time in eighteen months. Steve set the soup on the small table, and lifted the filled spoon to his mouth.

There was this old 21st century movie he watched a few times during his trip, that pictured a rat being a chef and a food critic instantly thinking of his childhood when he ate it. So, when Steve at the chicken noodle soup, it was that action that he instantly felt. It wasn’t a recreation.

This was his mother’s recipe. It had all the elements of Sarah Rogers, but especially the love. Steve eagerly finished the meal before going back into the kitchen, silently thanking himself that he didn’t automatically incinerate the packaging. He looked onto the back.

**Chicken Noodle Soup**

**Original Recipe Donated by Anonymous**

*

The next day, Steve sat at the bridge of the ship, after coffee, breakfast, and cleaning himself up. He pressed the record button to send to Ground, that they would get in mere seconds.

“This is Captain Steve Rogers of the U.S.S.S. Eagle. It’s good to be back,” he smiled. “I am a mere two-hundred and forty-three miles from Earth, near the Space Museum actually. I will be pulling into port with the twenty-seven formatted crystals. From there, those should be checked over by the Infectious Disease and Quarantine team, as well as myself, as I am not sure if I have been exposed to anything, if there was anything at all, at the facility. It’s good to be back, team. See you in an hour.”

Steve pressed the send button, and got his hands on the steering controls. He buckled himself into the bridge chair, and flipped a few buttons until his ship started up once again, and guided the ship back to Earth.

*

The welcome team was small, and mostly in white hazmat suits, all shaking Steve’s hand for a successful mission. He handed the case to the ID and Quarantine team, those of who where not helping Steve ran off in front of everyone else.

Steve was brought to a white room with a single bed with various machines beeping, surrounded by a thin plastic sheet that acted as a barrier. He was handed separate clothes, and said that his uniform, out of precautions and safety were to be incinerated.

“Could have just told me that they needed a wash,” Steve joked, but no one laughed. “Thanks for the clothes.

*

Bucky was sent home, as his part of the mission was complete. As Steve touched down at port, a pre-recorded message of Fury saying his thanks to the team of all their hard work. It was the fifth or sixth time Natasha and Sam have seen it, and pointed out the exact moment when they could see Fury’s eye twitch because it was the seventh take of the PSA. Before they scooted out of their chairs, a small secondary NDA popped onto their screen, they all tapped to sign, and waved goodbye to the ancillary tech team until their next mission.

There were still things to do for the other crew. Making sure no alien diseases were going to be taking over Earth, again, trying to find out why the facility created the formatted crystals for Earth to use for just about half a millenia, and _that_ whole surrounding mystery - however it was beyond is paycheck, and knowing that he’d be long gone when they needed a new solution on powering homes, meant that he could go home tonight, and at least _try to sleep._

At first, when he was tossing and turning, he immediately when to his tablet. By the end of the eight months that he didn’t talk to Steve, Bucky went to the PhysioGym, worked out, and fell right back to sleep. He loved it and hated it at the same time.

There were days that were good, and there were days he thought of how things could be different. How he would sit and eat breakfast not thinking and simultaneously thinking about how he could share a meal in the morning, if well...feelings were shared.

They weren’t, and it was the acceptance that made him a stronger person.

Two weeks later, Natasha and Sam were over, watching the latest CinePlex movie that was downloaded to the at home app. They got popcorn, and some beers to be able to drink while watching the latest rebooted film, and pressed play.

They were halfway through, when there was a knock on Bucky’s door.

Sam got up and made sure everyone kept watching the movie. “My turn to get up anyway.”

“Let me know if it’s my neighbor complaining about the noise. We could always move the film downstairs.”

Sam threw Bucky a thumbs up, and got to the door, looking through the peephole. He opened the door cautiously. “Captain Rogers?”

“Sam?” Steve shoved his hands into his pockets. “Is Bucky here? Or did he take a vacation…?”

“No, he’s inside watching a movie with Natasha and me.”

“Oh,” Steve said. “Uh, I’ll come back later. I’ll throw him an e-mail or something. Have a good day.” Steve took his hand out and waved, walked back to his path.

"Captain Rogers,” Sam said louder than usual. “ _Steve,”_ Sam said, stopping him in his tracks.

“You were released from I.D.Q....what three or so hours ago?”

“Six, but -”

“No buts,” Sam raised a hand to stop Steve from continuing to talk, “ _but_ , it seems important if you were practically just released from your current duty to come all the way here to speak with Barnes. I’ll go grab him.”

“Really, it’s fine, you-” Steve tried to say but Sam already left the foyer, waving Steve in as he disappeared.

Bucky ate another handful of kernels, as he watched more of the movie. Sam leaned on the door frame and cleared his throat. “Are we out of beer?” Bucky asked with his mouth full.

“Captain Rogers is here. To talk.”

Bucky almost choked on his food, as he saw Steve walk up right near Sam. Natasha looked up from where she was sitting, raising her can of beer as a hello.

“Hi,” Steve breathed out.

Bucky washed down the rest of the popcorn with his can of beer and got up from his couch, smoothing out his pants. “Hey, uh,” Bucky clear his throat, before bowing his head so he didn’t see Steve.  “Can we do this another time?”

“Sure,” Steve bobbed his head a few times before turning around.

Sam looked at Bucky’s lack of eye contact, and Steve’s compliance a few times over. Sam saw right through Bucky’s lies.

“Australia, huh?” Sam just stayed where he was, but Bucky didn’t answer as he sat back down.

“Time to go, huh?” Natasha looked around at everyone, but directed the question at Sam.

“I think it’s time,” Sam said as he got off the wall, and went to grab his jacket. “Sort this out, I don’t want work to be weird.”

“Bye, great evening,” Bucky said, somewhat sarcastically, as he handed Natasha her jacket.

“Remember Bucky, you deserve the world,” Natasha raised her eyebrows.

“I always do,” Bucky smiled.

Sam let Steve through the doors as they walked out. Bucky just sat down in his kitchen and watched Steve slowly walk to the door and lean on the frame.

“Welcome back to civilization,” Bucky sighed.

“Thanks, feeling very welcome,” Steve said without any emotion.

Bucky pulled a chair out next to him. “I think this talk is more than just a ‘ _Hey! Just came back from an eighteen month trip, can’t wait to catch up with my buddy!’_ conversation,” Bucky sighed. “Do you want any water or anything? I mean you were just cleared by I.D.Q. hours ago, you probably need at least _something_ ,” Bucky anxiously got up and paced around his kitchen looking for his glasses.

“How’d you find her recipe?” Steve asked. Bucky stopped opening the cabinets, and held onto the knob. “I had that meal as my last on my ship. It was going to be on the day I finished up on the facility but things got in the way.”

“It was donated by Anonymous,” Bucky said as he let go, and turned around and leaned on to the kitchen counter. “All the ship’s nutritional information are on Ground’s files.”

“Who gave the recipe then? That was my mother’s. She had two things that no one else put in, and that one is an extinct spice. There is only one family that knows the secret to that change, and it’s yours, so I ask again Bucky, how did you find the recipe?” Steve stepped into the kitchen.

“ _I didn’t donate the recipe,”_ Bucky almost yelled. He stopped to hold himself back from yelling more. “Winifred did.”

“You mom?”

“Yeah.”

“How’d she know I was going to be up there? I didn’t even tell you.”

"She did it before, for whoever was up there. She told me she was gonna donate it because she knew it made people feel like home.”

Steve rubbed his eyes, and brought his hands across his face. “How did she get the recipe?”

“Uh,” Bucky sighed and dropped his head. “Sarah gave it to her. Before she died.” Steve was silent. “She didn’t make it. She kept it safe, laminated so the ink wouldn’t fade. She wanted to share it.”

“Did you know?”

“She called me when she donated the copy of the recipe to the nutritional team.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“Steve, we didn’t talk for like a few months at that time. Was I really just going to V.M. and be like ‘ _Hey Steve! Haven’t talked to you in a few months, by the way my mom has your family recipe. Thought you should know.’”_

 _“_ I would really appreciate you not using that voice anymore, Buck. It’s getting over done.”

“ _Why?!_ Why Steve? _I can do whatever the fuck I want._ I’m not married to you,” Bucky pushed himself off the counter, and pushed his hair back, leaving his hands on his head.

“Yeah, well I very much saw that video message you sent me when I was just about to go into hyperspace I _very much know we’re never gonna get fucking married.”_

“How was I supposed to know, _you didn’t even contact me back!”_ Bucky was yelling now, forgetting all formalities.

“Considering that you said _and I quote ‘I really fucking hate you_ ’ I didn’t think you wanted me to talk to you!” Steve yelled back.

“ _Hate you?!”_ Bucky placed his two hands on the kitchen island. “I’m in _love with you, you fucking dumbass!_ ” Bucky was practically panting. The room became quiet.

“What?!”

“That’s what I said in the fucking message. I love you.”

“How long?”

‘Why does that matter?”

“Because I’ve probably have been in love you for just as long.” Bucky was silent, absorbing the words that Steve just said.  “I thought the video was strange. It….it glitched. Whatever video system you used it glitched...and now that I think of it, it glitched while you guys were giving data on the facility.”

“The signal booster,” Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. “I used a signal booster to get that message. Why didn’t you message back? Even if you thought that something was off with the technical aspects...why didn’t you message back?”

“The thought of losing you, _the idea_ ...it hurt, Bucky. I really _fucking hurt_. The life practically drained out of me. I couldn’t face you, because if I didn’t message you back,” Steve sighed. “If I didn’t message you back, the I could live in the reality where you still liked me.”

“Yeah, well, that was a stupid decision.”

“I don’t really make the best ones, do I?” Steve asked rhetorically, and Bucky only raised his eyebrows in agreement. Steve pursed his lips. “I’m sorry.”

“Is this a Captain Rogers apology or a Steve apology, because it’s feeling a lot like a Captain Rogers apology.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Can you be serious for one moment?” he sighed as he asked the question. “You know too well what a Captain Rogers’ apology is. There was no salute, no rigidness, no holding back false tears.”

Bucky tried to hold back his chuckle. “Are you referring to the one time the crew fucked up the Trifoldian ceremony and we had to step in for the damage control?”

“Yeah,” Steve laughed, “that’s the one.”

Bucky didn’t speak for a few moments. “I let you go. I...moved on. Just so you know. I thought I was crazy feeling like I needed to move on from _nothing_ , even though it never happened. Us.”

“It kind of did. Those eight months. Those messages. Bucky I wasn’t kidding when I said that your voice was the only thing that kept me sane. You talked to me. You said good morning, good night. You were the person that made me focus. That made me be able to do my job. You were my Second in Command, but you were nothing less than equal, _if not better_ than me.” Steve started to pace. “James Barnes, I have loved you ever since we really became friends and even more so when I asked you to be by my side up in space.” Bucky leaned on the kitchen counter again, and crossed his arms. “I don’t deserve you, and you deserve better. Better than me,” Steve looked away, put his hands in his pockets and started to walk away.

Bucky sighed. “Steve, wait.”

Steve stopped.

“It’s gonna take time.”

Steve turned back around. “For what?”

“For...” Bucky referenced them by waving a hand back and forth between the both of them. “For this. To get it onto the track we want. Both want.”

Steve smiled. “That’s okay with me.”

Bucky walked over to where Steve was and stopped right in front of him, biting his lip. “So.” He put his hand to Steve’s check, swiping his thumb over his stubble. Bucky leaned in and slotted his lips over Steve. He deepened this kiss as he felt Steve smile. It was only maybe a few seconds, but it felt like their kiss lasted light-years.Steve pulled back smiling.

“I’ve been wanting to do so since I’ve sent you that bed message.”

“So much for taking our time with things,” Bucky cocked an eyebrow.

“Taking our time? It's been almost two years if we're just counting this mission.” Steve earnestly asked. Bucky just looked at Steve. "Understood," Steve smiled. Steve opened his mouth to say something else, but Bucky cut him off. 

“Don’t you dare use that cheesy-ass line of yours Rogers.”

“Too late,” Steve smiled. “ _And away we go._ ”

**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Constructive criticism welcome!


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